Rated NC-17
"What the hell are you doing in here?" I demand of Pilar with more boldness than I feel.
She smirks at me, an ugly version of an expression I've seen on Danny's face dozens of times.
"You know why. You think you've got them all fooled, don't you? You've got my brother and my mother all extolling the virtues of you and your bastard baby."
Before I can even think, my hand snakes out and slaps her. "Don't you ever talk about my child like that!" I seethe.
Pilar looks momentarily stung, but then the smirk returns. "Your child. As though you're fit to raise a Rivera."
My jaw actually drops a little. "Andrew is not Nino's son," I breathe, incredulous. "You of all people should know that. And why would you call him a bastard if you think he's Nino's?"
She shrugs. "Nino was never your husband, not where it mattered."
I am reminded disconcertingly of Danny's words to me in the wine cellar so long ago, but I shake those memories off.
"You're trying to pass that brat off as my brother's, but I've seen him." Pilar rants. "He's Nino's, I know it! And you don't deserve him. If there was any justice at all, I would be the mother of Nino's child."
The hair on the back of my neck rises. "If you come anywhere near my child..." I begin in a voice I don't even recognize.
Pilar gives a little snort. "Please. Mama won't let anyone besides you, Danny, and herself within twenty yards of him. Besides, I don't want him. He's half yours, after all, and therefore means nothing to me. Less than nothing."
"Get out."
Pilar swaggers past me and I deflate like an old balloon when I hear the door close.
My hands are shaking so badly that it takes several tries before I can remove the light green jacket of my suit. I take down my hair and remove my skirt and stockings, leaving only my slip on as I slide into the sumptuous bed.
The cool sheets and heavy feather comforter feel like heaven as I settle into them and finally shut my tired eyes.
Carmen was right. A nap is all I need. by the time I wake up, it'll be time to take Andrew to the park with Danny.
I sigh as I roll over onto my side.
We'll get quite good at pretending to be a real family, my husband and I. I have no doubt of that.
My new husband.
Slowly, my mind begins to unravel the spool of memory, from the time I met Danny Santos until today.
I see him at the back of the church.
I remember him leaning insolently against the door that day he first spoke to me.
The way he kissed me.
The wine cellar.
His grandmother's orchard.
Nino's death.
That night.
The pictures in my mind begin to spiral crazily through me and, for the first time in four years, I let them all flood through me.
I feel so cold all of the sudden and begin to shiver. Pulling the covers tighter around me doesn't seem to help.
My shivering gets worse and I pull my knees up, curling my body into a ball.
Still, I'm so, so cold.
My teeth are chattering so loudly that I don't even hear Danny come into the room.
I'm not even aware of his presence until he sits down on the bed and asks, "Michelle?"
I don't answer. God, why can't I get warm?
"Michelle?" There's real concern in his voice now. "Baby, what's wrong?"
Somewhere, it registers that Danny is actually being nice to me. That he called me "Baby", which no one has ever done before.
But all I can say to him is, "P-pilar. S-sh-she w-w-was here and...and..."
"And what?" Danny is almost stretched out beside me now, his hand stroking my hair.
"S-she th-thinks Andrew is N-n-nino's. I'm s-so sc-scared f-for m-my baby, D-Danny. And I'm so...so c-c-cold."
"Shhh..." he whispers against my hair as lays down beside me. "No one's going to hurt Andrew, I promise. Now just relax. Relax. I think you might be in shock and that's why you feel so cold."
The warmth of his body next to mine feel so good and I actually feel my muscles unwinding a bit. My legs, which had been pulled up against my stomach and encircled by my arms, begin to slide back down.
Danny slides an arm under me to wrap around my waist and pull me closer, while his other hand rests on the top of my leg.
"Shhh..." he sys again as I start to protest. "Just close your eyes and get some rest. I'll stay here with you until you warm up a little and go to sleep, ok?"
I nod, already beginning to feel sleepy. How strange that just his presence has this calming affect on me.
"Andrew..." I murmur sleepily.
"Is safely playing with my mother and Kathleen. I think he even managed to manipulate Ray into playing Lego's with him."
I smile, drowsy. "So he's being watched my his grandmother, his babysitter, and a priest."
"It doesn't get any safer than that."
No, I think, it doesn't.
Then I settle back into my husband's arms and go to sleep.
****
When I wake up, a soft rain is pattering on the roof and gray light seeps through the drapes. The clock by the bed tells me that it's nearly noon. I've only been asleep for an hour and a half. I feel Danny's arm still tight around my waist and am briefly transported back in time to the night we conceived Andrew. It was raining then too.
Dangerous thoughts.
I go to sit up, but Danny's arm tightens around me, preventing it.
"Danny-"
"Stay."
For a sleepy moment, I consider it.
Then, with wakefulness, comes the realization of who and what we are.
Of what he did to me four years ago.
"No," I say stiffly. "Now let me go."
"No."
I start to struggle, but his arm is manacled around me, making escape impossible. I remained imprisoned, my back pressed against him.
"Danny, I told you that I had no intention of sleeping with-"
My words dissolve into a shocked gasp as his lips press a hot kiss on the back of my neck and the hand that rested on my stomach moves up to cup my breast.
"I know what you said," Danny murmurs. "And I have no intention of demanding a real wedding night from you."
The hand that was resting on my thigh moves lower, pulling up the hem of my slip, as his other hand continues to lightly stroke my nipple.
"Stop," I plead weakly.
My slip is up around my waist as his fingers lightly skate across my stomach.
Then lower.
A startled cry comes from my mouth as his fingers begin to insistently stroke between my thighs.
"No, Michelle," he continues in a low voice, "I won't make you my wife in the strictest sense of the word. But, by God, I'll have this much from you."
"No," I gasp again, even as I lean my head back against his shoulder and clutch the arm still circling my waist.
His fingers slide in and out of me in a way that is almost more intimate than making love. I can feel his arousal against my back, but I know he meant what he said. He won't make love to me. He'll just drive me out of my mind while he remains an almost passive observer.
I should put a stop to this right now.
But I don't.
I can't.
His fingers work some sort of strange magic in me. I can feel release looming, but just when I'm desperate to sink into it's golden void, he stops and moves both hands to my breasts while he continues to kiss the nape of my neck.
I strain against his touch, silently begging him to finish what he started, but he waits until my breath stops coming so quickly and my body cools down some.
And then his hand slips back down and he begins again.
He repeats this pattern over and over. Driving me nearly to the brink, then pulling back until I've sunk back down to earth, only to start the delicious torture all over again.
Finally, I can't stand it anymore.
My hair is sticking to me in sweaty tendrils and the sheets that were once so cool and comfortable feel like their entrapping me.
This time, when he moves to remove his hand yet again, I cover it with my own, wantonly pressing against his touch.
He groans in my ear. "Michelle."
Senseless words fall from my lips as his fingers move faster and harder within me, the heel of his hand grinding against the most sensitive spot on my body. "Please," I hear myself moan as I feel his tongue brush my earlobe. "Please."
He complies.
My climax rips through me at last, and I sigh his name on a ragged breath, too drained to call out.
I am completely limp as I lay against the sheets.
Danny holds me as my mind whirls around what just happened.
But before I can say anything to him, he drops a quick kiss on my temple and says, "Meet me downstairs in half an hour so we can take Andrew to the park. It's stopped raining."
He says it so casually, like he'd just been watching TV or something for the past hour instead of dragging me to heaven with a quick, hot, detour in hell.
"Fine." I hear myself say.
He turns right before he closes the door behind him.
Those eyes are hard again and I suddenly wish I could have seen them while he was doing those wonderful things to me. Were they as cold and hard as onyx then? Or were they blazing and gentle all at once, the way they were the night we made love?
"This doesn't change anything, Michelle," he says after a pause.
Then the door shuts quietly behind him.
He's so wrong. This changes everything.